Hold On
by Jillian1
Summary: Dreams fall apart to reveal reality... Post-William. Scully POV. Please read/review!!


****

TITLE: Hold On

****

AUTHOR: Jillian

****

SPOILERS: Especially William, and everything before it, too.

****

KEYWORDS: Post-episode

****

RATING: PG

****

ARCHIVE: Sure, if you want it. Keep the headers and let me know at JILLIBEAN@aol.com

****

DISCLAIMER: Scully, Mulder, Reyes, Doggett, and even little William, belong to Chris Carter, 1013, FOX, and basically everyone except me. If CC decided to sue, this disclaimer would not hold up in court. Really makes me think we're all wasting out time with 'em. Anyway, no copyright infringement intended, making no money off of them, blah blah blah. Oh, and the lyrics at the beginning are from a Good Charlotte song, "Hold On." That's where the title's from, too. I don't think they'd sue me either. :)

****

THANKS **TO**: My *awesome* and incredibly supportive beta-reader, Tefla. (I feel so cool when I say I have a beta-reader.) Also, my un-official beta reader, Agent Balinski (she only gets fanfic if she's not on my sh*t list, and she's supplying me with adequate high school drama dirt.)

****

NOTES: Just a little something for you guys in between projects. I *promise* I'll post my long fic soon, I just have to format it. Go read and review some of my other stuff! (I'm trying to get the "Tomorrow" review count up to 100 lol)

* * * * * *

Hold on if you feel like letting go

Hold on, it gets better than you know.

Don't stop looking, you're one step closer

Don't stop searching, it's not over.

Hold On.

--Good Charlotte, "Hold On"

* * * * * *

I can hear voices talking. I glance at the clock, and see that it's one AM. The voices are my husband and my son, and I realize he's made it home by his Saturday night curfew. I strain to listen to the conversation, because it's in the other room and I'm in bed. Mulder was waiting up for him, and now he was home.

"You've been drinking, haven't you?"

"Look, Dad..." William trailed off.

"Don't lie to me, son," Mulder said sternly. "There was alcohol at the party and you drank."

"Dad, I'm eighteen now. I mean, I'm not a little kid anymore. Yeah, there was alcohol and I had a little to drink. Big deal!"

"Imagine how disappointed your mother would be, William."

"Very," I shout in from the bedroom.

"Jesus, Will, now you made me wake her up!" Mulder said angrily.

I tiredly walk inside and join the conversation. On my way there, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My son is eighteen, he's out at parties drinking, and my roots grow in gray now. I am officially old.

"Come 'ere, William," I said. He walks over to me, and I sniff his breath. "Jeez, Will, you could've at least chewed some gum to *try* and get away with it."

"Well, I didn't think you'd go Nazi on me. It's not like I drove home, Jamie dropped me off. She hadn't been drinking."

"You're lucky. God knows what could've happened," Mulder said.

"Why are you overreacting like this?" William sighed.

"I'm not overreacting! Alcohol impairs your judgment, Will. If she was drinking, you might've gotten her pregnant or worse, she could've gotten in accident."

"PLEASE don't tell me this is going to go from a no drinking talk to a no sex slash safe sex with my girlfriend talk," William said sarcastically.

"Don't get an attitude with your father, William. He's right. I understand that you're older now but, as long as you're under this roof, you're under our rules. That means no drinking, no drugs, and responsibility. If you're going to have sex--"

"MOM! I don't want to hear this from you! I know all about safe sex. I'm NOT having sex with Jamie! She's a nice girl, I'm a nice guy, we're dating, it doesn't mean we're having sex! I had a little to drink, that's all! No pot, no sex. You guys are so uptight."

"We are *not* uptight," Mulder argued.

"Seriously, you must've had no fun as kids." 

"We had fun, but we had a lot of responsibilities too, William. You have it a lot easier than you know around here. The most we make you do is study and take out the garbage. Everything we do is for you, and all our rules, and all the talks, are in your best interest. You could show a little respect once in a while, you know. We don't want to see you hurt, that's all. We love you."

William sighed and said, "I love you too, Mom. I won't do it again."

"You bet your ass you won't, or I'll break your legs," Mulder grinned. "Next time you do something stupid like this, use a breath mint."

"I'm going to get to bed," he sighed, and scratched an itch beneath the locks of curly red hair on his head. "'Night."

"Goodnight, son. We'll talk about if I'm going to ground you or not in the morning."

"C'mon, it's a first offense," he smiled.

"G'night, William." I sighed, and he walked away towards his bedroom.

"The teenage years are tough," I said to Mulder, placing an arm on his shoulder.

"Yeah. I know. It's funny, when we started the X-Files, I never imagined us like this. Done with our work, the world finally safe from the conspiracies and the lies. Our biggest problem is our son going through his teenage idiocy stage. I never thought me and you would have to give anyone a safe sex talk, or a no drinking talk. Look at us now. Our son's a teenage terror," Mulder said.

"Yeah, but he's our son. And he's safe. And we're all together. I'd give a million embarrassing, difficult parent to child talks if I had to. He's our little miracle, even at eighteen."

"I love you." Mulder said quietly.

"Love you too." I lean in to give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

When our lips touch, I hear something. An alarm, maybe? Yes, an alarm. What's going on? I open my eyes, not to see Mulder. I see my empty bedroom. I sit up quickly, and see myself in the mirror. No gray roots. My face has not aged. I do not have an eighteen year old son. I do not have Mulder. I do not have William. The sun shines in through the window, but the room is cold; the alarm sends a chill up my spine with every beep. I quickly shut it off, noting I should have done so last night. It's Saturday. I don't have to be awake.

I could return to a world where I didn't have to give *everything* up. Not like it is here. Everything I love is gone. It's been a day, a damn day, since I said good-bye to William. Since I handed him to the woman from the adoption agency, trying to control my sobs. I couldn't take care of him, not against the people who were willing to kill me, kill anyone, to have him. Even if he *was* normal now, they'd never forget what he was. Never. I'd never be able to stop them from looking for him, from trying to take him away from me.

I made the most difficult decision of my life. I let my son, my only son, go. So that he could live a life that I could not promise him. So that he could be safe, and happy, and have a fighting chance. I live in a world of emptiness. The early spring sunshine does nothing to make my world warm again. I feel as if it never will be. Everything I have ever loved is gone.

I wander out of bed and to the nursery, running my hands along the wooden edge of William's crib. He'll never sleep in it again. He'll never know me, he won't remember me. He's so young, so impressionable. He's safe now. Far, far away from me, from the X-Files. From his father. 

His father. God, I miss him so much at times like these. I gave our son up. Yes, Mulder was not able to be here with him, but he was *our* son. He loved him so much. I think of the time we spent together. It was brief, but I'll never forget those moments, they're burned into my memory. When he left, I promised I'd never forget those days. Standing with him, our son between us, as we embraced. As our lips brushed, as we were able to just be. Just hold each other.

I knew he would have to leave. I was afraid of it, but I knew it. I had made it without him before, when he was missing and later "dead." The promise of William had kept me alive. When Mulder had to leave, my son was what kept me living. What kept me searching. William was my strength. Now they are both gone.

I close my eyes, but the tears don't stop. I'm shaking as I feel my knees go weak. I slide down to the floor of the nursery, my back against the crib. I sob, for a long time, loud sobs. There is nobody to hear me, nobody to comfort me. I haven't told anybody what I've done yet, except of course Monica and John. What will my mother say? How will she forgive me for giving up her grandson?

What will Mulder say?

When I can compose myself for a moment, and I pull myself to my feet and walk out of the nursery. I retrieve my laptop from my bedroom, and walk back into the nursery. It is painful to see William's things, but how will I ever part with them? Some masochistic part of me will never let go, and it's that part of me that leads me back into the nursery with the laptop. Sinking again to the floor, I open the laptop and sign onto the internet. I scan the e-mails quickly with my eyes. Mulder has not yet responded to an e-mail since we were supposed to meet at the train station. I do not know if it is out of security, or because he's no longer within reach.

Tears in my eyes, I begin to type.

Mulder,

I still hold no hope this letter will find you. I just needed to try, Mulder, so that you could hear what I have done. So you could see my apology. So you could try to understand, try to see why I've done what I have.

I am sitting on the floor of William's nursery. He is not here. The house is empty, silent, and cold. Don't worry, he's safe. He's far away from any danger that the X-Files have posed to him. He's far away from me. I gave him up. I made it confidential, so I wouldn't be able to find him. I knew, Mulder, that I'd feel so alone, like now. I knew I'd try and get him back, and if it was possible, I knew I would find him again.

That wouldn't be fair to him. He wasn't safe here. Jeffrey Spender came here, Mulder, he isn't dead. God, so much has changed. The people you assume are alive are gone, Mulder, and the people you assume dead are alive. First the Gunmen... I wrote to you about that when it happened, but you haven't replied to anything. It only gets worse. Spender was posing as someone who had contact with you. For a while, Monica and John thought he *was* you. He's disfigured terribly, and his father--your father--did it to him. The DNA proves you're half brothers. Jeffrey hated that Black Lunged Bastard almost as much as I do. So he made William normal, to see his father fail in creating a super-soldier. But he warned me, Mulder. They would never forget what William was. They'd never leave him alone.

And I knew I couldn't hold on to him any longer. He didn't chose to be brought into this world. We brought him here. I want nothing more for my son than a safe life. I *never* want him to know about conspiracies and lies and searches for truths. I never want him to feel the horrible things we've had to feel. Not that I'd do a thing differently, but I want a different life for him. A *safe* one, Mulder. You must understand that I did it all for him.

Last night, I had the most beautiful dream. In my dream world, things were terrible, but they were still wonderful. William was eighteen. He was home late from a party, and he had been drinking. But he was *there*, Mulder, he was safe. Sure, he was a teenager who messed around a bit, he had a girlfriend in the dream, too, her name was Jamie. We had to talk to him about the things all parents dread--drugs, sex, alcohol...But it didn't matter. 

I'd give *anything* for those moments parents dread. Just to have ANY parental moment, Mulder. I got to see myself as a mother, looking at a beautiful son we'd raised. We were all together. We were safe. It was ideal, Mulder, in every way.

But life is not my dream. I am alone, Mulder, now more than ever. Since you've been gone, William has been my survival. I wasn't alone, I had him. Now, I have nothing. Not you, not William, nothing. I am alone. God, Mulder, if you could see me now... So much has changed. My strength left with you and William. I'm sobbing, sitting on the floor of the nursery, typing to you, mouthing the words. A gentle whisper, wishing you could hear me miles and miles away. You, and our son. Who will never remember me. I am glad you cannot see what I have become without you and our son.

I sang to him. The same thing I sang to you. "William was a bull frog..." I wonder if he'll remember the tune. I wonder what his new family will be like. I wonder how I will survive without the both of you. Totally alone. I do have Monica and John, and they are good friends. John looks out for me, kind of like he's holding your place as the tough guy who tries to protect me. Of course, I still never stand for protection. When it came to William, though, I welcomed it. Monica, well, I always liked her. She's such a genuine person, Mulder, she reminds me so much of Missy it scares me sometimes. She's kind. And you don't have to worry about Agent Doggett. I think John and Monica have something going on. Just to keep you updated, of course. 

I miss you, Mulder. I miss your innuendo, I don't hear it anymore. Doggett's using all his innuendo on Monica, not that I'd want to hear innuendo from him in the first place. He's a good guy, and an excellent partner, but he isn't you. I've worked cases with Monica, too, and I can say the same for her. John almost killed Spender for touching William. They are good friends to me, definitely, but they don't fill that void you left. Not only the void you left as a lover, it goes far beyond that--the void you left as my best friend. The person who was always there, no matter what. The one who made me believe.

That said, I also miss my lover. I miss your kiss, waking up to you in the morning. I miss feeling loved. I miss *you*. I miss our son. I'm longing for the brief, happy time we all spent together. I long for the world in my dream, Mulder. I want to be there--grown, matured, done with the X-Files, the truth discovered, with our wonderful yet rebellious son. I want that perfect world. I want my dreams.

But I woke up. And this is where I am. I understand if you cannot respond. I just ask that you understand what I've done. I pray that this reaches you, and that you are safe. I don't really believe it will find you, but I will hope that it does. I hope you are safe, and happier than I am, although I know this is difficult for you, too. It's difficult for both of us. If only it could be difficult for us together...

I love you, Mulder.

Forever Yours,

Dana

By the time I've finished typing, I realize I am speaking the words aloud to an empty room. I've stopped bothering to wipe the tears from my face, knowing the flow will not stop. My hand trembles as I click the 'send' button, but part of me wonders why. Part of me wonders why I put myself through writing to him, when I know it will most likely never make it to him. I know why. It was catharsis; it was freeing. I needed to be able to tell myself that I was being honest and open with him. That I would never hide my truth, even if he wasn't around to hear it. 

After the laptop informs me that my mail has been sent, I close it. I place it on the floor beside me, and wonder why I am still sitting here. Why I am not getting up, moving on. Where the strength to do so has gone. How will I function? How will I work, how will I live? Every waking moment, my son and my love are on my mind, but desperately out of reach.

And I have become a sobbing, helpless woman on my floor. How did I let this happen to me? How did I let *them* win? I never thought it would be like this, not in a million years. So many times I said I'd never change a thing, but here I am wondering if it was all worth it. If in the end, it'll all go to hell anyway. I can't take that chance. My son is alive, somewhere, so I must continue to fight, to search. To try and make this world a little safer for him.

Finally, I rise to my feet. I muster up the courage, the strength from inside of me to continue. Why? Because Mulder wouldn't stand for me to be like this. Because I owe it to our him, to our *son*, to keep fighting. I promised to never give up--even though it feels like I uttered the words ages ago. If I quit now, they win. Doesn't it still apply today? 

If I let them defeat me, if I feel defeated--they win. They made me give up everything, but they will never defeat me. I am Dana Scully. They will never win. 

-end

Feedback no function Jillian well without.


End file.
